In the heart of the crumbling, ceilingless castle, a storm of battle raged. The once silent Bone Circle's meeting hall had become a battlefield. Baraggan Louisenbairn, the ancient tyrant of Hueco Mundo, stood atop the remains of his throne, his reiatsu pressing down like a suffocating storm cloud.
His order had been clear.
"Kill them."
His loyal adjuchas subordinates surged forward — dozens of them, fanatical followers who lived and died by his will. The Bone Circle, though fewer in number, were no weaklings. Grimmjow, his white panther form drenched in blood, lashed out with savage fury. Aizen, badly injured, fought with a cold glare, his spiritual pressure spiking violently as he cut through the attackers.
Yammy, however, was the most terrifying sight. Fueled by rage, his towering body had grown larger, his muscles bulging grotesquely, reiatsu crackling around him like a storm. He tore through enemies with his bare hands, roaring like a beast.
"BARAGGAN!!" Yammy's voice boomed, felling lesser Hollows with the sheer force of it. "WHY?! You dare betray us?! You not afraid of Spike o Sensei's wrath?!"
Baraggan, standing unharmed in the midst of the chaos, let out a cold, mirthless laugh.
"Fool. I've betrayed no one. You think I care for your little club of fools?" His voice was calm, heavy with disdain. "I have no loyalty to any of you. I've waited for this… for him to evolve. That idiot… when he reaches Vasto Lorde, I will take his body for myself. I will be eternal."
Grimmjow bared his bloodied fangs.
"You damn bastard…"
Aizen coughed, blood running down his chin. His eyes still burned.
"Woof."
Baraggan raised one skeletal hand, his reiatsu growing heavier, colder. A dreadful aura filled the air — the unmistakable power of Senescencia, the ability to rot and decay anything it touched.
"Now… die."
The Bone Circle members braced themselves, bloodied, exhausted. Yammy roared in defiance, unwilling to fall without a fight.
But before Baraggan could release his deathly skill — the ground trembled.
From beneath the castle floor, massive thorned cactus roots shot upward, cracking through stone and bone. The roots were thick as towers, barbed and glowing with an eerie green light. They wrapped around Baraggan's limbs and torso, binding him in place.
"What?!" Baraggan's eyes widened.
The roots tightened, dragging him back with unrelenting force. The entire castle shook as the monstrous plants twisted and coiled around him.
The Bone Circle members stared, panting and bloodied, as Baraggan struggled futilely against the living prison.
For the first time in centuries — Baraggan Louisenbairn looked afraid.
Yammy, still towering despite his injuries, his hulking frame bleeding from dozens of wounds, glared at Baraggan. His body trembled — not from fear, but exhaustion and fury. The battle had pushed him to his limits.
Just before his massive form gave out, Yammy's bloodied lips curled into a faint grin as he looked up toward the unseen cactus roots in the distance. No words spoken, no voice heard — but in his heart, Yammy instinctively knew whose power had intervened.
"...Spike o Sensei..." he muttered weakly under his breath, the name leaving his lips in a broken exhale, a mixture of respect and relief only he understood.
And then, Yammy collapsed with a ground-shaking thud, unconscious.